I headed back to Maw-Maw’s; hoping that what we’d gotten was worth Jeffrey McClatchey’s getting a good look at Ashara.
Chapter Twenty
When I got back to Maw-Maw’s, the three of them were sifting through the letters. At first, I thought, It wasn’t worth it. The letters--at least the letters they had gone through so far--didn’t tell us anything that we didn’t already know.
“Dammit,” I said, scanning over one of them on the coffee table. It was a love letter, barely legible, from Graham Howard to Mary Powell.
There were other letters, letters that Molly’s grandmother must have saved and passed on to her own son when she died.
“This don’t make much sense,” Maw-Maw said, staring at Graham’s letter to Mary.
“Why not?” Stephen asked.
“Well, I know that Mary was acting up and running wild, but when y’all told me Graham Howard was little James’s daddy, I just thought Graham must have seen a chance and taken it. I can’t believe that he was actually in love with her.”
“Not enough to marry her when she got pregnant,” Stephen said, disdain in his voice.
Maw-Maw shook her head. “Times was different back then, boy. It’s hard enough today on a mixed couple.” She gave him a significant look and then glanced over at Ashara, who studiously ignored her. “Back then, it just wouldn’t have been possible. There weren’t a judge in the county that would’ve married them. No preacher, neither. They’d have had to go up way North, and even then it wouldn’t have been certain they could’ve gotten married. And anyway, they didn’t have the kind of money it would’ve taken to get out of here.”
“They would have after the bank robbery,” Ashara said quietly.
We all stared at her.
“You think that’s why they robbed the bank?”
“I think there’s a good chance that’s why Graham Howard took part in it,” Ashara said. “I think it might have been his plan.” She was holding a letter in her hand and staring down at it. “I don’t know what the other two were going to do with their share, but Graham was going to take his and run away with Mary.”
“I take it that’s all in that letter?” I asked.
“Yep.” She set it down on the table, and then began reading it aloud, even though we could all see it.
“My dear, dear Mary,” she began, her voice soft. “I’s writing to tell ya that you and me is gone to get outta here together soon and go somewhere where we can married and our baby can have a proper life one with a daddy and a mamma. I got me a plan to get some money, and Owen and Jimmy is gone to help me. They don’t know what the money is for, so dont go telling Jimmy. I wont tell Owen neither. I love you with all my heart. Love, Graham.”
We all sat silent for a moment.
“Things sure did go wrong for those two,” Maw-Maw finally said softly. “Seems a shame, don’t it?”
We all nodded. Stephen took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Let’s start seeing what else is in here.”
We spent another half hour reading love letters from Graham to Mary, hoping for more clues but not finding them, until we came to the end of those envelopes. Underneath them were more recent letters. Maw-Maw, Stephen, and Ashara split them into three piles and began reading. I flitted around the room, trying to read over their shoulders.
Finally Ashara said, “Would you quit that, Callie? You’re making me nervous. I promise we’ll tell you if we find anything useful.”
“Fine,” I said with a huff, and sat down on the couch. Threw myself onto it, actually. So hard that my butt ended up six inches inside the cushion. I had to concentrate to lift myself out of it.
“I’ve got something,” Stephen finally said.
“What?” I said, sliding around behind him. He set another letter and what looked like a will out on the table.
We all crowded around it.
“Dear James,” this one started in a shaky, spidery script, “I’m dying. I knows it. And I can’t do nothing bout it. But I got something I need to tell you before I go. I aint got the strength to tell you this in person, but I know that you will read this letter when I go and do the right thing.”
“This is interesting,” I said. Everyone nodded, but no one answered. They were all too busy staring at the sheet of paper on the coffee table.
“I been keeping a secret for too many years,” it continued, “And I do believe its time to tell it. My cousin Susan werent really your mamma like I always told you. My daughter Mary was. Your cousin Mary is really your mamma. I need you to know that I aint been keeping this secret for nothing all these years. I done it to protect you. I aint certain but I’m pretty sure that Graham Howard was your daddy. And I think that probably your daddy helped to kill your uncle Jimmy, the one I named you after.”
“That must have been a hard thing to carry, all those years,” Ashara said softly. Again, we all nodded.
“Theres more, too,” the spidery scrawl continued in another paragraph. “Before your uncle Jimmy went and got hisself killed by those Howard boys, they was all friends. And he did something awful wrong with those boys. He never would tell me what exactly, but I think I know. Anyway, after he up and disappeared and I sent your mamma off stay with her cousin Susan to have you, I found a bunch of money buried out in the back yard. In my vegetable garden. Jimmy must of knowed I’d dig it up there come spring. I figure he knew he was about to get into some awful big trouble and left it there a purpose.
“I aint never done nothing with the money. Just kept it in the back yard until one year when them Howard boys come sniffing around. That was after the fuss over Jimmy disappearing died down. After that I took it to the bank and put it in one of them safe deposit boxes. Number 203 and I left the key in my top left bureau drawer. You do whatever you want to with that money. I never could bring myself to touch it. Its got your uncle Jimmy’s blood on it and I cant stand the sight of it. But you use it for some good. You send that Molly of yours to college with it. She’s a good girl and some good should come out of this whole thing.
“And if them Howard boys are still around after I die, you watch out for that Owen Howard. He’s just as mean as a snake and twice as sneaky. His brother aint quite so bad. I think he’d of been a good man if he hadn’t growed up with that mean daddy of theirs and that Owen for an older brother.
“Other than that money, I ain’t got much to leave you. But the house and everything in it is yours. If your real mamma Mary comes around wanting something, you just give her whatever you think is fair. I think I’m just goin to leave that up to you.”
She signed it, “All my love, Grandmamma.”
The will confirmed the letter. The elder Mary Powell had left everything to her grandson James Powell. Molly’s father.
At the very bottom of the box was James Powell’s will. It left everything he owned to his daughter Mary, aka “Molly” Powell.
“What happened to Molly’s mother?” I wondered aloud.
“She died when Molly was fairly young,” Stephen said. “I remember her talking about it once.”
We all sat silent for a moment.
“So how did Jeffrey McClatchey even know this box of letters existed?” Ashara asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “The fact that he tried to take it means that he did know about it and that means that he had motive.”
“You think this is enough to go to the police with?” Maw-Maw asked.
Stephen and Ashara and I looked at each other.
“It still doesn’t tie Clifford Howard into Molly McClatchey’s murder,” I said. “Everything we’ve got is good, but I still don’t think it’s enough.”
“You don’t think Howard having half the money is good enough?” Stephen asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It might be.”
“And how are we going to prove that Jeffrey McClatchey knew about these letters?” Ashara asked.
“Well, he handled it enough yesterday,” I said. “His prints ought to
be all over it.”
“Assuming they’re not all covered up by our prints,” Stephen pointed out.
“Oh, hell,” I said, stomping my foot on the floor. It sunk into the carpet up to the ankle. “Why didn’t any of us think to have you two wear gloves?” I demanded as I tugged my foot back out of the flooring.
Stephen shook his head. “It never even occurred to me.”
“We’re all new to this breaking and entering shit,” Ashara said.
“Ashara,” Maw-Maw said.
“I know, I know. Watch my mouth.” She shook her head. “It’s been a long, scary day. I’m going to go to bed. No. Wait. I’m going to make sure all the doors and windows are locked and then I’m going to bed. We can just talk about this more in the morning.”
“Okay,” said Stephen, “but you can’t go to work tomorrow.”
“Oh, not you, too,” Ashara said in tones of dismay.
“Yes. Me too. Now both Howard and Jeffrey know what you look like. You are calling in tomorrow and telling them that you have. . .” he paused to think.
“The chicken pox,” said Maw-Maw.
“That’s good,” I said. “That could keep you out for at least a week.”
“But I’ve already had the chicken pox,” said Ashara. “When I was seven.”
“Does anyone at the bank know that?”
“No.” Her lower lip pouted out and she scowled as she said the word.
“Good, then,” said Stephen. “You call in sick tomorrow and I’ll meet you here as soon as I’m done at work.”
“Why do you get to go to work?” Ashara demanded, still pouting.
“Because,” Stephen said patiently, “Neither Howard nor Jeffrey knows I’m involved in any of this. And if Jeffrey ever decides to come back to work, I want him to think that everything is perfectly normal. Besides, if I don’t work, I don’t get paid.”
“I don’t either,” Ashara pointed out.
“Don’t you lie to that boy, Ashara Jones,” said Maw-Maw. “You ain’t never called in sick a day of your life. You got more sick leave built up at that bank than probably anyone else there. You could be gone for weeks and you’d still get paid.”
Ashara sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll call in sick with the chicken pox,” she said.
“Thank you,” Stephen said softly. “It’ll make me feel better knowing that you’re safe over here.”
They walked to the door together and Ashara stepped outside for a minute. When she came back in, her lipstick was smeared.
Maw-Maw and I carefully avoided looking at her, staring at the stack of letters scattered across the coffee table.
“Ashara, honey,” Maw-Maw said in the most neutral voice she could muster. “Would you please put these letters back in that there box?” Ashara nodded and headed toward the table, gathering up the envelopes and beginning to stack them neatly inside the wooden box. “That is,” Maw-Maw added, “if you ain’t too busy thinking about that cute little white boy.” She burst into peals of laughter at her own wit.
Ashara just rolled her eyes and finished clearing the table. She carefully picked up the box by the edges--“Let’s see if maybe we can keep from ruining any of McClatchey’s fingerprints that might actually be left,” she said--and put it on the top shelf of the freezer.
“Can you think of any better hiding place?” she asked me before shutting the freezer door. “I’m too tired to come up with anything else.”
“No,” I said. “I think that’ll be fine for now.”
“Good.” Ashara closed the door and headed back to what had become her bedroom, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child. “Goodnight, y’all,” she called out before shutting the door.
“Goodnight,” Maw-Maw and I replied in unison.
* * * *
I only drifted for a few hours that night, so I was up early the next morning. I kept trying to figure out what we could possibly come up with--other than what I suspected the police would consider ancient history--to connect Howard and McClatchey to each other.
About 6:30, Maw-Maw came grumbling out of her room.
“If you’re going to stay here until this is all over,” she said, “you are going to have to quit fussing about those problems so danged early in the morning.”
“I didn’t make a sound!” I protested.
“Don’t matter,” Maw-Maw said. “Just like a screeching in the back of my head, all morning long, I can hear you worrying at this thing like a dog with a bone.”
I followed her into the kitchen and watched her gnarled fingers move as she put coffee on to brew.
“I’m sorry, Miss Adelaide,” I said. I sank down onto a chair at the small kitchen table. “I just keep thinking there’s got to be one more thing. One more piece of evidence that we could use to convince the police that Jeffrey McClatchey and Clifford Howard were both in on killing Molly McClatchey, even if Howard is the one who actually did it.”
Maw-Maw nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, honey,” she said. “And when it’s time, you’ll find that last piece.”
“But in the meantime, Ashara’s in danger and can’t go to work and Rick McClatchey is in jail for a murder he didn’t commit.”
“Well, I can’t speak to Rick McClatchey, but it ain’t going to hurt Ashara none to take a little time off and relax here with us. She ain’t never even taken a vacation since she started working at that bank. She could use a day or two off.”
“Are you two talking about me again?” Ashara said as she stumbled into the kitchen in her robe.
“Sure are,” Maw-Maw said, handing her an empty coffee cup. “Pour yourself some of that coffee and let’s go to the living room.”
“Hand me that remote control, Ashara,” Maw-Maw said as she settled down into her recliner. “We need something to take our minds off this murder business. Let’s watch us some news and see what’s going on in the rest of the world.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to make us feel any better, Maw-Maw,” Ashara said dryly.
“Well, we won’t know until we try, now will we?” Maw-Maw replied. “Now look there. An earthquake in California,” she said as she changed the channel to CNN. She kept it muted, so we were just watching the images and reading the captioning below. “And mud slides,” she said. “Don’t it just make you wonder why those people build their houses up on those cliffs? You’d think rich people would know better than that. But apparently them Hollywood rich folks ain’t got a lick of sense.”
“The ones I feel sorry for are the people at the bottom of the cliff,” I said.
“Oh, hell no,” said Ashara. “They should know better, too.”
Maw-Maw was right. This was taking my mind off our most immediate troubles. Anyway, it wasn’t like there was anything we could do until Stephen came home from work. Maw-Maw couldn’t drive--and neither, for that matter, could I; at least, that’s what I was assuming--and Ashara couldn’t leave the house. So we might as well make our own fun while we were waiting.
So there we were, cheerfully commenting on the stupidity of rich folks and the horrors of earthquakes and mud slides when suddenly, a familiar face appeared on the screen.
“Turn it up, turn it up!” I screeched while Ashara and Maw-Maw both scrambled for the remote control and an image of Jeffrey McClatchey in handcuffs marched across the screen.
We caught the reporter in mid-sentence: “. . . arrested today in connection with the murder of his sister-in-law, Molly McClatchey.” A picture of Molly from happier times appeared on the screen, dark eyes and hair, sweet smile. “Police say that forensic evidence has led them to believe that Jeffrey McClatchey may have been involved in the murder. No word yet on whether Molly’s husband Rick McClatchey is still considered a suspect.”
The news story switched and Ashara muted the television.
“Forensic evidence,” I said excitedly. “That probably means the piano wire I found in Jeffrey McClatchey’s trash can at the music repair shop.”
&nbs
p; “And maybe they found his epithelials on the murder weapon,” Maw-Maw said, nodding sagely. Ashara and I stared at her. “What?” Maw-Maw said. “I watch CSI. I know what forensic evidence means. You girls think just because you’re young, you know everything. Well, I ain’t lived this long just to suddenly turn stupid.”
I smothered a laugh. Ashara just shook her head.
I didn’t bother to remind Maw-Maw that Howard had been the one who actually killed Molly, and he had been wearing gloves the night of the murder. I didn’t want to deflate Maw-Maw in the middle of her self-righteous moment.
“You know,” I said. “If McClatchey’s already been arrested, then there’s the chance that the police are done searching his house. And they might not be looking for the same things we are. Maybe I should go over there and see if I can find anything.”
“Alone, right?” Ashara asked. She sounded anxious, but I didn’t think it was because she was worried about me.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s probably safer. Howard’s still out there looking for you, and McClatchey’s arrest has probably made him nervous. And we don’t know if McClatchey had a chance to tell Howard anything about seeing you at Rick’s. I don’t want to risk Howard seeing you out. Too dangerous.” I thought for a moment. “Unless I find something and need you to carry it. In which case I’ll come back and get you.”
Ashara sighed in relief and nodded. “You’re probably right.”
“Okay. So I’ll go see what I can see. You wait here for Stephen. I’ll come back and let you know if I find anything.”
“Good luck,” Ashara said as I moved out the door.
“And good hunting,” Maw-Maw said.
Chapter Twenty-One
McClatchey’s house was quiet. No crime scene tape or anything. It had been searched, though, and pretty thoroughly. Ransacked might be a better word. I wondered if the police had done this, or if it had been Howard, searching for the money.
For that matter, I wondered what had happened to the money, since I assumed it must have been on Jeffrey McClatchey when the police picked him up. Either that or he’d hidden it so thoroughly that no one would ever find it. If the police found it, I wondered, would they put together the same story that we had?
Waking Up Dead Page 17
